


A little pain never hurt anyone

by Zigrat



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Belts, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Discovery, Spanking, and present, once upon a time in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 18:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigrat/pseuds/Zigrat
Summary: Richard has a kink he hasn't been able to explore after a drunken incident in his youth. As always, Till is happy to lend a helping hand. Inspired by Richard's choice in clothing (specifically, his impressive collection of belts).





	A little pain never hurt anyone

**Author's Note:**

> There's also [a photo set](https://zigratbites.tumblr.com/post/174063389419/a-little-pain-never-hurt-anyone-zigrat) to accompany this, because why not jump right overboard?
> 
> I'm probably fudging the timeline regarding the brief trip down memory line. It's on purpose, since I'd rather not get too informed about certain individuals' personal lives. Anyway, it's not really relevant, since you won't find any plot here. Gratuitous kink and self-indulgence? Now those I can offer! I also tried out changing POVs here, I hope it works.
> 
> Inspired by Richard's choice in clothing in Paris 2017. Thanks to Zinderella for always enabling me!

It was escalating. Till was sure of it. Richard’s fashion sense had always been questionable, but it would have been rather hypocritical of Till to rib him about it. His own stage costumes were a story in themselves, after all. Richard, though… The words “subtly obscene” came to mind, and he had to grin. That wasn’t a bad description of the man.

During the soundcheck Till had a good chance to observe Richard. Yep, one more belt hugged his hips, added to the others which already hung dangerously low. Hips? That wasn’t true. The collection of studded and spiked belts framed his ass nicely. Perhaps Richard had some sort of competition running with Paul, whose number of belts was increasing as well.

“Can you even sit with all that on?” Paul asked incredulously when Richard returned backstage, gesturing in the general direction of Richard’s ass.

Till noted that Richard had also added some leather straps around his thigh. A muscled, shapely thigh, when one’s attention was drawn to it. Richard was definitely ahead in the competition.

Richard shrugged. “Does Till need to be able to do cartwheels while wearing his angel wings?”

Everyone shuddered at the image of a crashing disaster. The huge wings were notoriously heavy, and Till had to admit to his dismay that cartwheels weren’t on the table anymore, either.

“You do wear them offstage, too,” Schneider pointed out.

“Since when have you all been so concerned with my ass? It’s touching, really. Besides, I can sit down just fine.”

Richard demonstrated this by plopping down on the couch next to Till, who marked the way his black-lined eyes widened. He had probably miscalculated the softness of the surface. However, his poker face didn’t crack.

“All right, I stand corrected,” Paul conceded. “We deem your one-man bondage show functional.”

Richard made a little mocking bow. Then they had other things to consider as the show drew nearer and everything electrified.

Till had never been one to resist temptation. As they were headed to the stage, towards the wall of noise and chaos which never failed to make him queasy, he slapped Richard’s ass with resounding force. A strangled yelp escaped from the guitarist, who turned to stare daggers at Till. Till merely lifted an eyebrow at him. Richard had to take his place on the stage, and there was no time for revenge.

The red lighting hid any traces of a blush, and if Richard’s eyes were a bit more glittery than usual, it could always be blamed on make-up.

  


* * *

  


Damn him! Why was it always Till who saw right through him, whose guesses hit home? Richard cursed silently as he abused his guitar, letting his frustration flow into the performance. He hadn’t thought much about the way he dressed, only that it looked good and made him feel good, confident, like he could take over the world.

He didn’t know his own mind, sometimes. Now he had to admit that the constraining belts and the studs and spikes which could dig into his skin if he was careless weren’t perhaps only fashion accessories. His ass still stung from that slap; his only consolation was that it had to have hurt Till more. But then, the singer was likely masochistic enough to enjoy that. Yes, Till was the masochist around here. Definitely. Also Richard’s capacity for denial seemed to shrink year by year.

Music, blessed music, made him stop thinking. He flung himself into the performance so completely he was almost able to lose himself.

Until it happened again. Richard should have seen it coming, should have known how shameless Till was. Richard’s hips jerked forward as Till slapped his ass in passing, growling into his mic like the stalking beast he was pretending to be. Tiny stars of pain exploded against Richard’s ass where the metal bit him, while the wider impact of Till’s hand left behind a pleasurable burn. Richard was lucky to be out of the range of his mic. He didn’t want to know what kind of noise had escaped his throat.

The singer was a wily creature, too subtle for anyone to notice anything amiss, while he got Richard two more times. Everyone was used to them playing rough and getting handsy on stage; it was almost expected. Only Richard knew these weren’t playful little slaps. He grit his teeth and did his best to avoid Till, snarling at him as he dared to get too close. Till made an exaggerated show of shrinking away in fear, to the delight of the crowd.

“You were on fire tonight!” Richard got to hear from his bandmates after the show, and “You looked possessed, man!”

Oh, how right they were. He stomped into an empty dressing room and slammed the door shut.

  


* * *

  


Till opened the closed door a crack and glanced inside. The others were ready to head back to the hotel, and he’d promised to check on Richard.

“Since you were the one to wind him up, you should go get him,” Flake had told Till bluntly. The keyboardist was frighteningly perceptive. Till wasn’t really surprised he’d noticed something going on between him and Richard. Not many things could be kept from Flake.

Since the request fit with his own plans, he’d agreed amiably and told the others to go on ahead.

Now Till entered the dimly lit dressing room and closed the door quietly behind him. The only light came from the lamps at the top of the huge mirror in front of the dressing table. Richard was standing in front of it, leaning on the table. His breathing had fogged the glass a little.

Upon hearing Till’s footsteps, he turned to the singer quick as a snake.

“What do you want?” Richard growled. He looked ready to bite someone’s head off.

“Came to see where you disappeared,” Till said. “The others are leaving already.”

“And you decided not to respect my wish to be alone.”

“I didn’t know that was what you wanted.”

“Oh really? Then you’re denser than I gave you credit for.”

“Or you refuse to admit –”

“What?” Richard exploded. “What are you even playing at?”

Anger looked good on him. He looked like he wanted to punch someone, most likely Till. The singer didn’t let that deter him. He closed in on Richard, entering the circle of light. Richard refused to back down, and Till ended up crowding him against the desk.

“I wonder what makes you so angry,” Till said to wind him up some more.

“I don’t know, maybe the way you groped me on stage? What the fuck were you doing, trying to sabotage my playing?”

“Now’s a little late to get squeamish,” Till chuckled. “If you minded a bit of hands-on action, you should’ve said so years ago.”

“This was different and you know it,” Richard ground out.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Till said, looking like innocence itself – as much as it was possible in smeared stage make-up and only half out of costume.

“You _know_ ,” Richard snapped.

“I know,” Till agreed. “But I’m not sure you remember.”

He pushed his thumbs through Richard’s belt loops and turned him around easily to face the mirror, taking the man by surprise. He ran his hand down those sinfully tight pants which left nothing to the imagination and groped shamelessly between Richard’s legs. He pulled Richard flush against him and looked at him in the mirror over his shoulder. Their eyes met.

Richard groaned in defeat. He was well and truly caught.

“This is all your fault,” he said. And then, “What do you mean I don’t remember?”

Till let his hands fall on Richard’s thighs.

“It was in Schwerin, back in the day. When you crashed one of my parties.”

“I was invited!” Richard said. He had trouble tearing his eyes away from the sight in the mirror. Till had counted on that.

“Yeah, but twenty of your drunk and stoned friends weren’t.”

“You may be right.” Richard frowned, thrown off by this unexpected trip down memory lane, and shifted restlessly under Till’s hands.

“Well, I didn’t really mind. I had escaped outside from the noise, sort of feeling good because people were having a good time, and bad because I didn’t want to be there.”

A real classic, that one. Till had often felt like that those days. On the outside, looking in.

“You stumbled out and almost tripped on me on the steps. You still had those ridiculous blond dreads, and you looked at me with your eyes all dark, like _I_ had no business being there – do you know what you looked like then? You were angry, it didn’t take a lot to piss you off.”

“Still doesn’t,” Richard muttered, though the sullen words were betrayed by the way he was starting to lean back against Till.

“You fell down beside me and started to rant about something or someone, I can’t remember what. You just wouldn’t stop. I could feel the adrenaline radiating off of you, the anger whispering under your skin. You were always angry, when I got cold and numb. I wanted to shut you up. So I kissed you. Not nicely, like I wanted something to become of that. I thought it would shock you into silence. But you – you moaned into my mouth like you were drowning, and didn’t pull back even though I bit you.”

“Yeah. I do remember that,” Richard murmured. “My lips were so swollen in the morning, my girlfriend gave me endless shit for it.”

“‘Hurt me’, you told me. ‘Hurt me, or I’ll hurt someone else.’ I didn’t know what to say, so I kissed you some more, if you can call that kissing. And then you were straddling me, and it was obvious you were hard, and I was too. Too late to stop then. You kept asking me, pushing me, and your anger was catching. My hands were gripping your ass, you were wearing the kind of blue jeans everyone wore those days, and I’d slapped you before I knew what I was doing. Your hips jerked against mine, and you let out a helpless little noise.”

Till was sneaking his hand down the front of Richard’s pants, and Richard watched it happen in the mirror, transfixed by the singer’s soft voice.

“I almost said I was sorry, but you took a hold of my hand and placed it back on your ass. ‘Do it’, you said, staring at me and daring me to go on. So I did. Didn’t know how hard to hit, but I just went for it, and you braced your hands on the step above to give me better reach. You were moaning, trying to keep quiet, but I thought the slaps sounded unbelievably loud in the night, mixed with the music spilling out of the house. You never told me to stop, only stared at me like you’d found something incredible. Probably the opposite of God. You writhed against me, I fisted one hand in your hair and kissed you, while my other hand kept hurting you. You bit my neck hard as you came, and that was it, I was done too. I guess it didn’t take long, though it felt like forever. You slumped off me, laughing like a maniac. It was catching, because you were right, it was crazy, wasn’t it? Can’t remember much else of that night. We probably drank more. In the morning you were gone. I almost thought I’d dreamed the whole thing, except my dreams didn’t used to be so pleasant.”

Till had managed to slip two fingers under Richard’s waistband and was splaying his hand on the bare skin revealed by his short vest.

“Fuck,” Richard breathed out. “It was you. I didn’t remember, not exactly. I woke up with a hangover from hell, sore in strange places. I had a vague idea of what had happened. I jacked off to those fragments for years.”

“I can’t decide if I should be mad at you for forgetting me, or flattered that I made such a lasting impact.”

Richard huffed. Then his expression shifted from indignation into something else entirely, and he looked at Till in the mirror.

“I think,” Richard said in a measured tone, “that you _should_ be mad at me.”

Till’s smile turned dangerous.

“I can do that,” he said.

  


* * *

  


Though everything had been leading up to it, Richard let out a surprised yelp as Till smacked his ass. His hips pushed into Till’s hand. He felt light-headed at the thought that this was actually happening.

“How do you want this?” Till asked, his breath tickling the back of Richard’s neck.

“I want to get rid of these fucking belts for a start,” Richard said and unbuckled them in record time. The thigh straps would have taken more time, but they wouldn’t get in the way. The belts clattered to the floor.

The mirror felt like too much. He knew it would distract him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to see what he looked like while – while Till spanked him. Nevermind that Till sounded like he hadn’t minded the sight. After a brief hesitation, Richard decided to brace himself against the wall. A pick from his fantasies, which were embarrassingly many.

Till hummed in approval. “Quite nice.”

Then his hands were on Richard’s ass again, a solid weight which sent flutters of anticipation to Richard’s stomach. Till wedged a thigh between his, making him spread his legs wider. He opened Richard’s pants and pushed them down as far as they would go, and his underwear along with them. Richard’s cock and ass were bared to the cool air. Though he had no qualms about nakedness, he felt somewhat ridiculous, posing like that. Something to do with the fact that he had chosen this. It wasn’t spontaneous, no one was drunk. No excuses anymore.

“Did you think I wouldn’t take the opportunity to get your lovely ass naked?” Till asked, as if reading his thoughts. His hands had returned to Richard’s ass, kneading the flesh and letting his short-cut fingernails dig in. “That I’d be satisfied with another quick grope in the dark?”

If memory served right, it had been a lot more than that, but for once Richard wasn’t in a state of mind to declare his objections.

“You wanted this as well?” he managed to say. It had kind of blown his mind that Till had remembered something from so long ago, in such loving detail.

“Could I make it any more obvious?” Till was quiet for a bit. “You’re nervous. Don’t tell me you haven’t done this since then. Had a girlfriend spank you or something?”

Richard was slowly melting under Till’s addictive touch, firm but gentle, with the occasional spark of pain.

“Mmh. No. But no one did it properly. They just wanted to fuck, it was only a bit of foreplay. And somehow I never got around to explaining. I mean, I wanted to fuck too.”

“Obviously,” Till said. Richard heard the smile in his voice. “You like to fuck. That’s been established. But you like getting your ass spanked too, maybe even more than fucking.”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” Richard said. “You’ve only got one piece of evidence, and I don’t even remember all of it. It could have been a fluke.”

“Then we’ll have to put that to the test, won’t we?” 

For a moment his hand was on Richard’s cock, stroking him warm and sure. Richard hissed and spread his legs even wider. The pants were already digging uncomfortably into his thighs.

“What do you want? My hand, a belt?”

The building pleasure had Richard answering easily.

“Your hand. Maybe… maybe a belt, later. But not one of mine.”

Till chuckled. “Not that much of a masochist, then. My hand still feels those spikes, you know.”

“Like you’d mind,” Richard scoffed.

“I don’t. But there’s one thing I want from you before we get started.”

Richard turned his head to glare back at Till, annoyed that he wasn’t getting on with it already, and then he was pulled into a kiss, fingers tangled in his short hair. Anything he might have said got swallowed. The memory of a punishing kiss opened slowly, and he remembered the old pent-up anger finally finding an outlet. How good it had felt. He was the first to bite, this time, but Till was quick to catch up and gave as good as he got. Richard had had a lot of practice since then, what felt like a lifetime ago, yet the feeling was still the same. Perhaps because it was Till. 

Till pulled him back by his hair, and though Richard usually hated that, it felt right for now.

“There,” Till said, satisfaction evident. “That’s what I wanted.”

Richard might have thought more of it, if Till hadn’t chosen that moment to get started. The first slaps were relatively light, but the impact of Till’s large hand was different from what Richard was used to. It hurt, yes, but it was just a promise of what was to come. When Richard merely leaned into the touch, impatient, the slaps grew more forceful, and he let out a sigh of relief. The rightness he felt was hard to describe. He knew only that there was a raw want inside of him, and he wanted more.

The pain was building slowly, a steady burn with bright moments of flame where Till’s hand hit his flesh. Till was methodical, made sure that every inch of revealed skin got the attention it deserved. Every hit went straight to Richard’s cock. They didn’t speak – the only sounds were the slaps echoing in the bare room, Richard’s breathing growing more ragged, distant noises of people from somewhere far away. A world away from this. Usually Richard would have felt a need to fill the silence. Now he gave it no thought at all. There were no thoughts. He was sinking into the sensation, the pain now starting to win over pleasure, but he didn’t mind. No, he craved it.

Till went on far past what previous lovers had done, without prompting from him. The man seemed to never tire. Maybe he wouldn’t, maybe this would go on forever and Richard would lose his mind. He was panting, whispering ‘yes’ into his arm with each resounding slap. It was getting harder to stay still. He felt a tremor in his arms, an urge to lean into the pain or away from it, he wasn’t even sure which. 

Then, hazily, he realized it had ceased. The burn hadn’t faded, so it took his mind a moment to catch on. Till was still running his fingers lightly on his ass like an artist marveling his work. The slight pressure left lines of pain in its wake.

“What?” Richard rasped, when he somehow found his voice again.

Till ran a steady hand up his back, under his rucked-up vest.

“Not enough?” he asked calmly, not even out of breath.

“Almost,” Richard whispered. “But something more. Please.”

Till hummed, pleased. “So polite. Do you want the belt?”

Some part of Richard’s mind tried to say that it might not be a good idea, it was getting to be too much, but he was burning, inside and out. He might not get another chance.

“Yes,” he said, and closed his eyes in anticipation. He was beyond nervousness, in a state where it was easy to simply accept everything.

The caress of leather on his flaming skin was a promise.

  


* * *

  


The belt was an ordinary leather one with no embellishments, something discarded in the dressing room. Till wrapped it around his fist, feeling a bit more clear-headed now. He’d done quite a number on Richard already, yet he kept on asking for more. Till was sure the sight in front of him would be seared into his memory – Richard half-dressed and dirty from the show, his ass bright red with Till’s fingerprints on him, on the verge of too much yet still asking for more. It was hard to deny him anything, when he was so clearly into it.

Till ran the belt lightly on Richard’s ass, making him hiss and push back into it. Richard let out a gasp as Till dragged the belt down the cleft of his ass. Yes, definitely into it. Till stepped back and swung the belt experimentally. He liked the sound of leather on flesh, and Richard jerked and let out a low noise at the sharper pain. He had been untypically silent so far, but the belt brought out all kinds of pleasing noises. On top of the punishment Richard had already taken, it had to sting like hell. Soon he was groaning at every strike, and still he wouldn’t call it off. Maybe he didn’t know he had any limits.

If he didn’t, Till did. He was more than ready to move things along. As nice as playing with Richard was, his cock was begging for attention, and Richard wasn’t much better off.

Till ran a hand up Richard’s trembling arm. Richard turned to look at him, his eyes bright and face wet, make-up ruined worse than ever.

“Well done. Think you can take ten more?” Till asked.

“Yes,” Richard said in a thick voice. He sounded out of it, like he was on another plane of existence altogether.

Till decided to take him up on his word. He backed off and let the belt fall hard five more times in quick succession. Richard let out a shout, shaking his head and struggling to stay still. Welts were raising where the edge of the belt had caught on flesh. The last five were lighter, gradually easing off, but they landed on top of old hurts and made Richard hiss and buck. In the end, Till let the belt fall to the floor.

Richard’s ass glowed cherry-red, almost as red as the accents in his clothing. He was panting hard, still caught in some landscape inside his head. Till felt absurdly proud of him. Briefly his thoughts flitted to how this would have been years ago, when they were both impossibly young. But today was at least as good. Much better than two young drunks fooling around. Still two fools, but not quite as lost.

Till’s attention was yanked back to the present when Richard reached down with one hand to jerk off. He was impressed to see that Richard was still hard, but this didn’t fit in with his plans. He took a hold of Richard’s hand and pressed it back on the wall, covering it with his own. Richard let out a little dismayed sound and tried to resist Till’s hold.

“Come on. You’ve done so well this far,” Till whispered to him. “You’re perfect. Let me take care of this for you.”

A bit of praise, calculated but not untrue, had Richard giving up all resistance. Till let go of his hand, and it stayed where he wanted it to. Till took a step back and grabbed Richard’s ass with both hands. Richard hissed as he kneaded the heated flesh. Till pushed his hips firmly against Richard’s ass, letting the other man feel his erection. He was still wearing his pants, and the material must have felt abrasive as he rolled his hips against Richard.

Richard was getting an idea of what Till was about to do, and he braced himself better against the wall, the muscles in his arms straining. Till unbuttoned Richard’s vest with one hand while rocking slowly against him. He ran his hands up and down Richard’s front, pinching his nipples and letting his fingernails catch there. Till was unsurprised as Richard’s hips jerked forward at that. He took a good hold of Richard’s hips and pulled him back, digging his fingers in. Richard let out a shuddering breath.

It was getting to be too much for Till as well. With one hand on Richard’s hip as a reminder, Till undid his own pants and pulled his cock out with relief. He spat on his hand and stroked his cock a few times to get things more slick. Then he splayed his hands on Richard’s ass, parted his ass cheeks and pushed his cock into the cleft. He bucked against Richard a couple of times, then pushed at the reddened flesh to make it a snug fit and started to thrust against him in earnest.

Richard cursed beneath him, but didn’t rebel. He let himself be used. For now.

  


* * *

  


Every touch hurt just enough. Richard wanted to prolong this, keep the fire burning forever. For that he was willing to let Till manhandle him. Anything not to make it stop. And he had to admit that a part of him took twisted pleasure in this, even though he was left hanging.

Then Till started to speak.

“I want to fuck you,” he said into Richard’s ear, emphasized by a forceful thrust of his hips. “Fuck you so you’ll feel it for days. You look good like this. Better than I remembered, better than I imagined.”

Words were entirely unfair. Praise was a surefire way to get to Richard, and of course Till would know it.

Another dirty whisper against his shoulder. “Maybe I should spank your asshole before I fuck you, make you all red and hurting for me. Like you are now.”

Richard whined low in his throat. Suddenly he wanted that with a frightening intensity. Every crass promise or threat Till made felt like a caress.

“Or perhaps we could make use of one of your belts after all. See how you like that. You seem to be more into pain than I thought.”

Richard shook his head, robbed of words, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. How much it would hurt. Would it be enough to make him beg Till to stop? Would he stop?

“I know you wanted to avoid the mirror. Unusual for you. What if I didn’t let you? Made you see how you looked as I buried my cock into you. I’d like to see the look in your eyes.”

Richard was jolted forward with each buck of Till’s hips. He was pushing back, trying desperately to find something to get him off as filthy words rained on him. They were enough to drive him mad with lust, but not nearly enough to give him the release he craved. Then Till’s hand was on his cock again, jerking him off with single-minded purpose. Richard cried out, and he didn’t seem to be able to stop, guttural noises escaping from his throat with every thrust, every stroke of Till’s hand.

“Maybe next time we can see if you can get off on this alone.”

Till slapped his ass hard once, twice, and that was it. Richard’s hips jerked as he came with a choked shout. He was dimly aware of Till bringing himself off behind him, heard him groan and felt his come spattering on his ass. He didn’t have it in himself to be indignant. He wasn’t anything just yet.

Richard sank to his knees on the floor, dizzy and disoriented. Till went down with him. He felt steadying hands on his shoulders, their foreheads pressed together. Slowly he started to come down from his high.

Again, like last time so long ago, Richard felt the absurd urge to laugh. A reaction to released tension, maybe. Till pulled back, though he didn’t let go of him, and looked at Richard curiously. A smile was tugging at his lips as well.

“You didn’t have much to say,” he said to Richard. “Do you always laugh like a lunatic after a fuck?”

“I think it’s laugh or cry,” Richard said, too open in his blissed-out state. His voice sounded strange, hoarse and gravelly like he’d sometimes wished it was. The thought almost set off another bout of laughter.

Till brushed his thumb on Richard’s cheek, leaving behind a damp smudge. “I think you did.”

“I absolutely did not,” Richard said automatically, though he had a very faint idea of what he had or hadn’t done.

“And here I thought I’d finally found a way to shut you up.”

Richard was beginning to feel the aftereffects of their rough play. It felt like every inch of him hurt or ached. He was still getting a pleasant buzz from it, but he might think otherwise in the morning.

“It’s a promising start,” Richard said. “You might be onto something.”

Till looked at him all too knowingly. “Might I really?”

Then he leaned forward and kissed Richard gently on the forehead. And just like that, Richard was undone.

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, that got quite a bit longer than intended!
> 
> I live on feedback, so if you feel at all so inclined, I love hearing what people think about my writing ❤


End file.
